


Sparkles

by Sincestiel



Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Flavored Lube, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, Vibrators, Voyeurism, because Sam is 16, i warned for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincestiel/pseuds/Sincestiel
Summary: But, the thing is, no matter how often Dean promises himself he’s going to stop letting his mind wander to just what Sam gets up to with that thick, purple rod, his mind keeps right on providing him with images.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: if you feel comfortable with it: weecest where Dean finds Sam's sextoy and can't stop thinking about Sam using it? or anything in that direction....
> 
> This isn't exactly weecest, but close? I get a little squicked writing much younger than fifteen or sixteen. And those are a little iffy for me too.
> 
> In case you want to see the vibrator[here it is](http://www.lovehoney.co.uk/product.cfm?p=12381).
> 
> Enjoy. I hope.

Dean can’t stop thinking about it. He keeps remembering how thick it is and how long. He keeps thinking about how _purple_ the damned thing is, purple with fucking _glitter_. And god but it’s shaped like a fucking dick, complete with bumpy veins. Of course, the vibration is an added bonus that a real dick doesn’t have. But whatever. Dean can do better than a goddamn vibrator.

Except he keeps having to also remind himself that the vibrator in question belongs to his _sixteen_ year old _brother_ and so no, Dean doesn’t need to offer to show him how good the real thing is. Even if he really, _really_ wants to.

But, the thing is, no matter how often Dean promises himself he’s going to stop letting his mind wander to just what Sam gets up to with that thick, purple rod, his mind keeps right on providing him with images.

_Sam on his hands and knees with the fucking thing hanging out of his tight little hole. Or Sam loose and needy, legs spread wide, cock thumping up and down on his flat belly as he plunges the thing in and out of his wet, pink, hungry asshole. The way Sam eyes might roll back in his head when the thing buzzes over his prostate. The way Sam’s hard little body would shine under dim motel lighting as sweat starts to build up over his newly developing muscle. Or maybe the way Sam would whimper Dean’s name as Dean pulls the intruding toy out and replaces it with his-_

“Dean!” Sam’s sharp voice cuts through Dean’s daydreams, but when Dean looks up he’s not sure reality is safer right now because Sam is fucking naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. And dripping water all over the place. One droplet falls from his too long hair and lands on his bony shoulder. As it slides off, down the front of his body, over the soft spot just under his shoulder and then down a pectoral muscle that’s just starting to plump up, Dean’s eyes track its path.

“Dean?” Sam says again, this time less exasperated and more worried. And Dean did take a hit to the head earlier, so the concern might be warranted. In fact, Dean could probably blame his gutter thoughts on the injury. Well, he could if they were new thoughts. But they’re not. It’s been weeks now and Dean can’t stop checking Sam out. And he can’t stop staring at Sam’s duffle because he knows what the fuck is jostling around at the bottom of it.

“’M Fine,” Dean assures Sam because the kid’s already searching around on the cluttered table for the cellphone their dad left in case they needed to get in touch with him. He’d left to get a foot in the door on the next hunt, but let them have a night to recover from the beating they took with this last ghost. And Dean can’t imagine John would be thrilled to have to turn around and come back all because Dean can’t stop thinking about seeing Sam spread out and stuffed. “Seriously, man. I’m okay.”

Sam gives up his search and turns back to Dean, stepping closer and reaching out to hold Dean’s head on either side. His hands are warm and bigger than Dean realized. But hell, Sam gains a few inches somewhere every few months, so that’s nothing new. The kid’s probably going to outgrow Dean in the next year or so. 

Tilting Dean’s head back, Sam looks into his eyes, first one and then the other, comparing pupils, Dean knows. But it’s all Dean can do to stay focused on Sam’s face and not let his gaze travel over the chest that’s almost within licking distance. Shit. He’d thought his obsession would get better with time. But it’s been three goddamn weeks and it’s only getting worse. At this rate he’s going to do something really fucking stupid really fucking soon.

“I don’t think you have a concussion. But if you need to go to the hospital I can drive. Do you have a headache? Feel nauseous? Are you confused?”

Dean bites back a laugh. Because yeah. Okay? He’s fucking confused. When he found that fucking thing he should have teased Sam mercilessly and then, after ample torture, he should have told the kid there’s nothing wrong with curiosity. He should have given Sam a talk on safe gay sex and then moved on with his fucking life. But, instead, he keeps thinking about _teaching_ Sam about all the many benefits to fucking someone with a dick. And he keeps hoping Sam’s not learning the shit from anyone else.

“I’m good. Not even a headache anymore. Really. Put some clothes on and we’ll go grab dinner and some beer.” Technically, Dean isn’t old enough to buy alcohol. But Alex Morris is and that’s what his ID says right now.

Reluctantly, Sam releases Dean’s face and shuffles over to his duffle – that fucking _duffle_ that’s been the bane of Dean’s existence for weeks now – to grab his clothes. He dresses in the bathroom, thank goodness because if Dean has to see Sam’s ass right now he’s not going to promise he could contain himself.

After a juicy burger and two beers, the third resting between his legs as he surfs through channels from his bed, Dean feels a little better. Sam’s dressed now and not wet and flushed pink from his shower. And Dean is successfully focusing on something other than his little brother or his little brother’s duffle.

It’s glorious right up until Sam crawls up onto the bed with Dean and knee walks his way to Dean’s side. Dean freezes as Sam slots himself right next to him, book in hand. And okay, they do this sometimes. Dean watching TV and Sam reading. Sam’s head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder and sometimes Dean’s hands might comb through Sam’s silky hair. Maybe. But that was before. They haven’t done this since Dean found a fucking huge vibrator in Sam’s belongings. 

But Dean is a glutton for punishment, so he doesn’t push Sam away. In fact, he’s pretty sure his fingers sink deeper into Sam’s hair than normal, carding through it and massaging at Sam’s scalp. “Whatcha reading, Sammy?” And god, is Dean’s voice really that low and gravelly? Better question, did Sam shiver when he heard it? Maybe the kid’s got a chill. That’s the only explanation Dean can consider.

“A Wrinkle in Time,” Sam mumbles, shifting his book and wiggling down and closer to Dean’s body. His left leg falls over the tops of Dean’s thighs as he gets situated and Dean fights not to moan or do something really horrible like guide it higher so that it falls heavy over his slowly growing erection.

“Read that a time or two, haven’t you?”

Sam nods but that’s all the response Dean gets. So Dean settles in for a night of sheer agony. But he’s going to enjoy the fuck out of it. Yeah. He’s really is a bit of a masochist sometimes.

Dean ends up drinking the whole six pack on his own. As soon as Sam notices he’s finished one, the kid gets up and brings him another. And every time, he fits himself right back against Dean’s side, eating up Dean’s personal space like it belongs to him. Dean doesn’t complain. And he’s pretty sure that his own hands get a little more grabby with every beer he drinks. And by the time he’s downing the dregs of the last one, he’s got the arm that’s wrapped around Sam under the back of his shirt and his hand around his side. His fingertips are just grazing Sam’s ribs, brushing lightly over the warm skin. 

Sam takes the last beer bottle from him and sets it on the table bedside the bed, and then he worms as close against Dean’s side as he can get. His book got discarded sometime around the fourth or fifth beer he brought to Dean, and now he’s got one hand plastered to Dean’s side and the other bunched in Dean’s t-shirt, lifting it just slightly. Sam’s pinky finger is sliding back and forth over the bare skin exposed at Dean’s belly. It’s doing wonders for Dean’s erection which, despite enough alcohol to loosen Dean’s inhibitions, hasn’t flagged in the slightest over the course of the last hour or so. Dean’s almost certain Sam’s aware of it. But he hasn’t said a word and he’s not running away. 

Suddenly, Sam turns his head and buries his face into Dean’s chest for several seconds. Concerned, Dean scratches over Sam’s scalp gently and murmurs, “Sleepy?” thinking maybe it’s time to tuck Sammy in. Never mind that he hasn’t had to or got to do that in years. But Sam shakes his head and Dean feels him take a deep breath before he lifts up.

His whole body rises as his hand slides down off Dean’s side to brace him on the bed and then, so fast Dean’s not really sure what’s happening, Sam is straddling his hips, Dean’s dick just inches from Sam’s ass.

“Wha-” Dean starts, but instead of pushing Sam back like he probably should, his hands clamp down on Sam’s thighs, holding him in place. He’s not sure if he’s trying to make sure Sam doesn’t get away or if he’s trying to save them both the embarrassment of Sam’s ass meeting Dean’s eager cock.

“Shh,” Sam breathes, leaning in to run his nose up from Dean’s collarbone all the way to his ear, inhaling the whole time, like he’s trying to pull Dean into his lungs. “Smell so good,” he finally whispers, but his voice is quivering and his hands are unsteady where they’re braced on Dean’s chest. The kid’s nervous. Incredibly so. Dean feels his heart beating hard and fast against the cage of his ribs when he raises a hand to push against Sam and make him sit back up.

Sam’s face is red and his eyes are watery and his teeth are worrying his bottom lip so hard Dean thinks it has to hurt. The kid’s a bundle of nervous energy and almost crippling anxiety and it’s doing things to Dean. There’s still concern, of course. He’s scared as fuck that Sam either doesn’t realize what he’s putting into motion here or that he’s noticed Dean’s weirdness and is playing into that somehow. But he also can’t deny the way his stomach flips at the thought that Sam wants this so much he’s willing to take such a harrowing risk to have it.

“Sammy?” Dean whispers, the hand on Sam’s chest sliding up to cup Sam’s jaw, “You okay?”

Sam smiles then, tentative and alluring in ways he probably doesn’t even understand, and turns to press his mouth against Dean’s palm. For a second Dean thinks he’ll kiss it. But that’s not what happens at all. Instead his red, shiny tongue darts out to run, slowly, right up the center of Dean’s hand. His eyes stay locked with Dean’s right up until he draws Dean’s middle finger into his mouth. As he sucks it in, his eyes close and he moans sweetly, swirling his tongue around the pad of Dean’s finger.

“Shit, Sammy.” Dean is in awe of the way Sam’s warm mouth takes him in, all the way to the base of his finger and then back up to the tip. And instead of pulling away, because, even though he knows he should, Dean isn’t going to do that, he gently presses his finger back in. Sam initiated this and Dean is going along for the ride no matter where it takes them. Hell, the kid even plied him with alcohol. He’s worked hard for it.

When Sam finally pulls off with a pop, he’s panting and his eyes are wild. He’s in disbelief like the thought that Dean would go along with this in any capacity is too much for him to really consider.

“I got something,” Sam says, like it’s a secret he’s been dying to share with Dean, and his eyes are twinkling mischievously.

Dean grins, tapping his middle finger against Sam’s lower lip. “Is it purple? And sparkly?”

Sam’s face turns an even deeper shade of red, but he smiles back and nods, nipping at Dean’s fingertip. “So you _did_ find it then.”

It hits Dean then that Sam’s been planning this a lot longer than just tonight. The devious little bastard.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t know what to say.” Dean’s reply falls out without being filtered. There’s none of his typical bravado. Just honesty. Because if they’re going to do this, and Dean thinks they probably are, that’s how it has to be. He can lie and fake his way through just about any situation with just about anyone else on Earth. But not Sam. Sam deserves better. “What did you expect me to say, Sammy?”

“I don’t know. I just… I thought I could see if you thought it was gross or if it freaked you out. If it did then I’d just keep using the toy and pretending. But if not… because sometimes, Dean, the way you look at me… I thought you might want to, um, without it.”

Dean shakes his head, still reeling from Sam’s confession, but absolutely sure what he wants. “Oh no. I want you to get it out. And then I want you to show me how you use it. I wanna see, Sammy. I’ve been imagining it for weeks now. So I gotta know.”

Sam is nodding vigorously, already climbing off Dean to make his way over to his duffle. Dean grabs him by the wrist and pulls him back long enough to steal a kiss. It’s just a simple thing. No tongue, no heat. Just Dean’s lips pressing against Sam’s and Sam gasping and then moaning before he pulls away. But the way Sam’s face lights up makes Dean’s heart swell in his chest. 

This is wrong, he thinks as he watches Sam first dig around in his bag and pull out a bottle of lube – watermelon it looks like – and the long, purple vibrator and then start pulling his clothes off. So wrong. Sam’s his brother. And he’s only sixteen. And worse, Dean is the only real constant in his life. _And_ he’s sort of a parental figure. On so many levels this is wrong. There is a power imbalance here that Dean cannot overlook. But Dean comforts himself with the fact that he didn’t start this. Sam did. He’s just… Not really going along with it, per say, because he’s definitely actively participating now, but he’s just giving Sam what he obviously wants.

It’s weak justification that doesn’t even hold up in Dean’s own head. But fuck it. He has no intention of turning back and if that makes him a horrible person, so be it.

Sam crawls back onto the bed with the toy and lube in hand, clothes deposited somewhere on the floor. He’s long and lanky, but there’s some definition now across his chest and abs and even his wiry arms are starting to bulk up. But what’s really holding Dean’s attention is Sam’s cock. It’s not like, huge or anything. Just normal size. Maybe just a smidge smaller than Dean’s. But it’s more the fact that it’s there, hanging between his legs as he makes his way up the bed.

It’s not like Dean’s never come into contact with another dick. He’s fooled around with guys before. Even, a time or two, fucked one. But this is _Sammy_ and _Sammy’s dick_ and that’s different. Scarier. Hotter. Just _more_ in all ways.

“How do you want me to do it, Dean?” Sam asks, now kneeling next to Dean on the bed. “On my back, or on my stomach?”

Dean clears his throat and sits up, aiming to sit in one of the chairs at the foot of the bed to get the full effect, but Sam drops the toy and reaches out to grab Dean’s arm. When Dean looks up at him, there’s fear all over his face and it takes Dean a minute to realize Sam thinks he’s leaving. He thinks he’s spooked Dean or Dean’s having second thoughts.

“Just going to pull up a chair, Sammy. That’s all. Just want a front row seat.”

Biting on his bottom lip, like he’s not sure Dean’s telling the truth, he nods and lets go of Dean’s arm. But Sam relaxes noticeably when Dean’s situates the chair almost against the end of the bed and sinks into it. 

“Okay. Ready. Just do it however you normally would. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Yeah, but I do it both ways. Stomach and back. So which do you want to see?”

“Both, eventually,” Dean says with a smirk, “But right now just your favorite. Or whatever is most comfortable.”

Sam positions himself in the middle of the bed, and then he sinks down to his elbows and lifts his ass in the air. Dean has a perfect view of Sam’s pink pucker and has the sudden desire to taste it. And that’s something he’d never done before. Always thought it was kind of gross. But with Sam, he wants to. He wonders what Sam would sound like getting his ass licked open. Wonders what he tastes like.

Sam spreads his legs wide and drops the toy to his right, and then there’s the snick of the bottle of lube being opened. Dean leans back in his chair and adjust his jeans, giving his cock room to expand because it’s already twitching from the view. Sam spread wide and open, his balls and his cock dangling between his legs, is a sight to behold.

When Sam reaches back and runs his wet fingers down his crack, leaving a shiny trail in their wake, Dean has to bite down on a moan. That tight little hole of Sam’s doesn’t look like it can take even one of Sam’s fingers, much less the vibrator he’s planning to use. But the sound Sam makes when he places one finger in the center and presses is hungry and needy and that finger slides right in. And then he’s sliding the second one in as well, scissoring them slightly and groaning at the pressure. He tilts his head enough that Dean can see his face, eyes squinted closed and his lips hanging open. He looks like he’s in heaven as he slots a third finger in next to the other two.

Sam’s opening swallows his fingers so easily and Sam whimpers and spreads his legs wider as he presses them as deeply as they can go. His rim stretches wide and thin around the intrusion and then clings to his digits as he pulls them out. And for just a second, he gapes open and Dean can see inside his body, dark red and then just black before it closes up. His dick throbs so hard at the thought of sliding into all that heat and he has to press a palm against himself and close his eyes for a few second to regain control.

When he looks back, Sam is up on his knees, slicking the vibrator up with one hand holding it at the base and the other sliding up and down. He jacks it longer than is strictly necessary and Dean knows it’s for his benefit. But finally he can’t seem to wait any more, and he reaches back to position the tip of the toy at his entrance. Dean is surprised when he doesn’t bend back over though. Instead, he braces it against the bed, holds it between his heels, and slides down the full length of it in one downward motion. Then he reaches back and turns it on. The filthy moan that falls from his lips as he grinds down on it, still squatting, has Dean standing and easing his way up the bed.

He fits himself against Sam’s back, one hand splaying over Sam’s lower stomach and the other dancing over Sam’s chest, flicking at his pert nipples. Sam shivers and lets his head fall back on Dean’s shoulder, smiling softly as he works himself up and down the fake purple dick he’s riding.

“So hot, baby,” Dean whispers, breaking the silence and pulling a low whine from Sam’s throat. “You do this a lot?”

Sam nods and turns his head so that he can scrape his teeth over the side of Dean’s neck. “Every chance I get. Love it so much. Feels so good, Dean.”

“Looks good too, baby boy.” Sam shivers as Dean’s hands explore the front of his body. Neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and even sliding up and down the length of his dick a time or two. He twists and turns into Dean’s hands, welcoming and inviting Dean to touch wherever he wants. “What do you think about, Sammy? When you’re riding it?”

Dean knows what Sam’s going to say. It’s obvious. But that doesn’t stop his cock from jerking against his fly when Sam says it. “You. Always you, Dean. Got it because I wanted you. Wanted to be ready for you.”

Dean moans and buries his face in the top of Sam’s shaggy hair, breathing him in while his hips work to lift and drop himself on the toy still buzzing underneath him. Fuck but Dean has to get his hand on that toy. He wants to know what kind of sound Sam would make if he jacked it up on high and angled it just right.

With one hand braced at Sam’s middle and the other pushing at his shoulders from behind, Dean guides him down. And Sam goes so pretty. Bends right over and arches his back, bringing his ass up high. The vibrator slides out and his pink, swollen hole pulses visibly at the loss. But Dean doesn’t make him wait. He picks it up, butts the tip against Sam’s opening and slides it right in. It goes so easily and so smoothly and Sam moans and pushes back, making sure he gets all of it.

Dean twists and turns his wrist until he hears Sam inhale sharply and then groan, deep and, for lack of a better word, slutty as fuck. Yeah, that’s the spot.

“Feel good right there, Sammy? That your sweet spot, baby?”

Sam nods eagerly, whining and wiggling. Dean grins and it feels predatory.

“I’m gonna turn it up, okay? All the way. Think you can take it?”

He nods again, but it’s almost hesitant, like he’s not sure he can or if he even wants to. But he’s willing to do it because Dean wants him to. That’s both terrifying and heady. He could probably do anything he wants to Sam and Sam would just take it. Because he wants Dean that much.

“If it’s too much or you don’t like it, all you gotta do is tell me to stop, alright? I’ll always stop if you want. You’re running the show, okay, baby boy?”

Sam whimpers and Dean taps his ass a couple times. Not spanking him, necessarily, but just trying to get his attention. But the reaction Sam has? A hard shudder and a rumbling moan, tells Dean that Sam likely wouldn’t mind being spanked. Might even enjoy it. Dean makes a mental note of that because the thought of having Sam spread out over his lap with a bright red ass is delicious.

“Words, Sammy. You gotta use your words. Are you going to tell me to stop if you don’t like it or can’t handle it? I mean, no hard feelings, you tell me to stop and I do. That’s it. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sam pants out, already worked up from having the toy jittering all over his prostate, “I’ll tell you.”

“Good boy,” Dean praises, his free hand soothing over Sam’s ass cheek. His response is almost equal to the light slaps Dean gave just a minute ago. So Dean makes another mental note to get Sam all spread out and needy for him and then just whisper all kinds of sweet things in his ear. Like he does for all the girls he fucks. Except, with Sam, it’ll be the truth.

Dean cranks the dial up slowly, keeping the pressure steady against that spot inside of Sam. The higher he turns it up, the more Sam’s hole twitches around the intrusion and the louder Sam gets, moans and whimpers turn into almost squeals. His hands dig into the pillow under his head and he rubs his face back and forth in it, trying to muffle the sounds that are just growing in intensity.

“D-dean,” Sam stutters out and Dean stops with it only at about half power.

“Too much, Sammy?”

“I-I can’t. S-sorry. It’s…”

But Dean doesn’t let Sam finish. True to his word, he turns the toy off and eases it out of Sam’s clenching body. The sudden silence is almost deafening. But Dean just waits for Sam’s breathing to even out, dropping the toy to the floor and massaging up Sam’s back to calm him.

“Sorry,” Sam finally gets out, throat slightly raw sounding, “I tried. I just. I’ve never. And it almost hurt.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. Did good, baby.” Dean leans over him then, dragging his open mouth down the bumping knobs of Sam’s now bowed spine. He stops at the small of Sam’s back and plants a wet, open mouthed kiss in the dimples on either side. When he ventures lower, tickling his tongue in the cleft of Sam’s ass, Sam sighs and starts to relax.

He smells like fake watermelon, sharp and fruity and Dean wonders how many licks it would take to find Sam’s taste. How long would he have to tongue at Sam’s loose, pliant hole before he’d taste nothing but Sam? He intends to find out.

“Anyone ever eat you out, Sammy?”

Dean can almost hear the blush in Sam’s voice, “What? No. I. No. Nothing. Ever. No one’s ever touched me at all. Just you.”

Dean stops then, tilting to rest his forehead against Sam’s cheek. “Are you sure you want this, Sam? It should be someone else, shouldn’t it? Your first time.”

He doesn’t know if he’s hoping Sam will stop him or ask him to keep going.

“I want it to be you. I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

Smiling to himself, and he’s not sure if he’s happy or sad about that revelation, Dean presses his lips to Sam’s cheek and then moves toward his center, using his hands to pry Sam open. The sight that greets him, Sam’s hole open and fluttering, pink and puffy and shiny with lube, has him leaking in his underwear. 

Slowly, Dean extends his tongue and then swipes it gently, over Sam’s opening, flat and wide. It sounds like Sam chokes on the groan that falls from his mouth. So Dean repeats the motion and gets the exact same results. Ten, it turns out, is how many licks it takes to rid Sam’s body of the overpowering watermelon flavor. And then it’s just skin, clean and tender under his mouth. When he slides his tongue inside, there’s still a faint taste of fruit, but mostly it’s just the tang of the inside of Sam’s body.

Dean’s not sure how long he sucks and licks at Sam’s hole. Long after there’s no trace of the lube to be found anywhere outside or inside. Long after Sam’s come once, shivering and sobbing into the pillow as his hole contracted around Dean’s probing muscle. Long after Sam started begging Dean _please fuck me, god, please, Dean_. But he’s fascinated with the way Sam feels and tastes. He loves the sweet little sounds Sam makes, loves knowing he’s the only one who’s ever heard them. Hopefully the only person who ever will. But when Sam growls and pretty much demands that Dean _get your fucking dick in me right fucking now_ , Dean presses one last kiss to Sam’s well-loved opening and lifts up, finally remembering just how hard he is and just how much he wants to sink into Sam’s heat.

“I don’t have a condom,” Dean says, stupidly, as he spreads his fly open. When has he ever not had a condom when he needed one? Never. But he’d used his last one two nights ago with that cute waitress at the pizza joint and just hadn’t bought anymore yet. He hadn’t planned on needing one at least until the next town.

“There’s some in my bag,” Sam says, voice even more ragged now that he’s spent god knows how long pleading for Dean to fuck him. “But I don’t care if you don’t use one.”

It’s tempting. It’s really fucking tempting. Sam’s a virgin. Tight as hell. Silky and hot and Dean can’t even begin to imagine how that would feel gripping his bare cock. He’s never fucked anyone without a condom. It would probably be safe. But probably isn’t good enough when it comes to Sam. And Dean, being the big brother here, should be setting a good example. Starting Sam out on the right foot.

He almost laughs at that because fucking his brother without a condom isn’t really worse than fucking him with a condom. But still. Guy’s gotta have limits, right? Lines he won’t cross. And until he’s certain he’s clean, this is that line.

He sheds his shirt on the way to Sam’s bag. After he digs out the small box of Trojans, a three pack – ribbed for her pleasure, he pushes his jeans and underwear down on the way back to the bed. By the time he knees up into Sam’s space again, he’s naked and the condom is in place. But when he squeezes a little more lube over himself and then starts to line up, Sam suddenly jerks away from him and Dean stops.

It turns out that Sam doesn’t want to stop. He just wants to be in a different position. They end up with Sam straddling him and Dean on his knees. Sam’s thin but corded arms wrap around Dean’s neck and his eyes are bright and excited as he stares into Dean’s.

“Like this,” Sam whispers, lining his mouth up with Dean’s just as Dean guides his dick to Sam’s ass. Sam kisses him softly, moaning when their tongues meet, and Dean wonders if he’s tasting himself. He hopes so. Sam tastes amazing.

Sam sinks down slowly, and Dean gets to watch his face scrunch in concentration and then go slack with pleasure when he’s finally sitting flush over Dean’s pelvis, cock buried deep. He meets Dean’s eyes, awe clearly evident in the way his mouth hangs open as he grinds down on Dean’s dick several times. The heat is almost unbearable, he’s tight and soft inside and Dean just wants to fuck up into him hard and fast. His dick throbs in protest when he holds absolutely still though. He has to remember this is Sam’s first time. And of all the first times Dean has participated in, this is the most important.

“Feels so much better than the toy,” he says softly, nibbling at Dean’s mouth once before, “Come on. Fuck me.”

They move slowly at first, Dean’s hips urging Sam into a soft, easy, up and down motion that has Dean letting his head fall to Sam’s shoulder as he bites at his own lip to keep from just pounding up into Sam. It feels so goddamn good and Dean’s been flirting with coming for what feels like forever now. 

Sam must realize that Dean’s holding back on his account though, because after a few minutes of his gentle rocking motion, he starts to speed up, lifting himself higher and dropping harder until he’s bouncing in Dean’s lap. And then it’s a race to the finish line because Sam seems to have no intention of slowing down.

Dean holds on to Sam’s waist with his left hand and uses his right to snake between them and start jacking Sam’s hard, leaking cock. Sam’s making those shaky, whining noises that Dean couldn’t get enough of right before he came the first time, and he speeds up his hand. 

Sam’s body is trembling either from the strain of keeping the pace they’ve set or because he’s so close. Maybe both. “Come on, baby boy. Come on my cock for me. Gonna feel so good to have you pulsing around me, milking me.”

Dean runs his mouth up the side of Sam’s neck, stopping to suck lightly at his earlobe before flicking his tongue against the shell of Sam’s ear. And the kid comes hard, a flood of hot come splashes over Dean’s hand and Dean groans out a “Yeah, like that,” just before his own orgasm takes him. His shuddering climax leaves him a whimpering mess clinging to Sam’s slim body.

Finally, Sam, gets them rearranged and even deals with Dean’s condom, carefully pulling it off and tying it before tossing it in the floor with the vibrator and the lube. When he lies down next to Dean again, this time both of them naked, he pulls the cover up over them and fishes his book off the bedside table.

“You’re going to read now? How are you not exhausted?”

Sam smiles and then hides his face against Dean’s chest when he mumbles, “I don’t want to go to sleep yet. I’m scared it’s just a dream.”

“Hey,” Dean says, worming his hand under Sam’s head and tilting his face up by the chin. For a few seconds he just stares into Sam’s hazel eyes, willing him to understand that this is real and Dean has no intentions of ever giving it or him up. And when he kisses Sam, it’s soft and sweet, gentle like Dean’s hardly ever kissed another person before. “It’s real. Promise,” he says on an exhale when he pulls back.

Sam nods and places another quick kiss to Dean’s lips, “But what if you regret it in the morning?”

“I might. But not because I don’t want you and probably not enough to stop me from doing it again.”

Sam studies him for a minute and then seems satisfied with whatever he sees on Dean’s face. He puts his book back on the table and turns out the light, snuggling into Dean’s side afterward. And Dean, who, as a rule, doesn’t do cuddles or snuggles, holds Sam close and kisses the top of his head. He bends a lot of rules for Sam.


End file.
